the life and musings of a kinky slut

Mr. Wrong


Bad boys ain’t no good
Good boys ain’t no fun
Lord knows that I should
Run off with the right one*

But which one?

Thick steam surrounded, swirled, as Sam sat and wrestled with this choice.

Dominic or Thomas?

Daddy or Beau?

Who would Sam choose?

Both Dominic and Thomas were appealing. Both were gorgeous, desperately in love with Sam, and gave more orgasms than they got. But Sam had to choose.

Dom was thick, all muscle, with arms that could break a person in half. He enjoyed throwing Sam around, making it obvious who was boss. And Sam loved this, loved the loss of control, loved being an object, and yet cared for and comforted.

Dom picked up Sam at a bar. This was ballsy, considering Sam’s friends were not the forgiving type. But Dom had a huge set; ones that, in fact, Sam loved to suck on.

Dom drove a chopper, wore his leathers proudly, and allowed Sam to lick every inch of his black outer layer. Dom drank whiskey, smoked big fat cigars, and took shit from no one.

Tommy was like air, like the breeze, like a deep breath into Sam’s life. They met in a park. Sam was sitting on a bench reading the latest piece of fiction-candy purchased at the nearby large box bookstore. Tommy’s pitbull decided Sam’s feet was its new pillow to nap on. 

They chatted about dogs, about books, about the better-than-average weather.They drank coffee at a nearby cafe. They made a lunch date. A dinner date. A ‘come-over-and-fuck-me-now’ date. Sam was hooked.

Tommy was a kind lover, always attending to Sam’s pleasure. There was no top or bottom, just two lovers on a bed ravishing each others’ bodies, taking in the scents and tastes. Sweat. Saliva. Sexual. Seductive. Sam didn’t know when or how, but Tommy understood every place to touch, every spot to lick, where to caress.

Thomas or Dominic? Dom or Tommy? Dominic or Thomas?

They knew about each other. Sam kept no secrets. And almost at the same time, they each asked Sam to choose. Why, Sam never knew.

Maybe because they were, by nature, jealous men, not wanting to share Sam. Maybe because of ego. Maybe because of pride. Or maybe because they didn’t believe Sam’s explanations of polyamory, of loving more than one person, of loving equally.

Either way, Sam had a choice to make.

Taking a deep breath, Sam parted the thick mist and walked out of the steam room, the decision made.

*Mary J. Blige feat. Drake – Mr. Wrong

Categorised as: Erotica | Gen Fiction

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